


Bond On A Roll

by Castillon02



Series: Bond Goes Forth [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Shopping Malls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: The undercover adventures of James Bond: Mall Cop and his Q-Branch-issued Segway.
Relationships: Felix Leiter/Q, James Bond/Vijay
Series: Bond Goes Forth [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1069833
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Bond On A Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 007 Fest 2020, for an anon prompt that asked for "Bond on a Segway"

M had said his contact would meet him in the underground parking lot at the mall, but not who it would be. Probably he got off on being able to surprise his spies, and for once it had worked. 

“This is America. Why are you even here?” Bond asked Q. 

Q frowned. “If you must know, I was on holiday nearby and M requisitioned me to modify your transport.” 

“That thing?” Bond asked. He nodded at the incongruous black SUV that Q had pulled up in. 

“Of course not,” Q said. “You’re undercover as a mall cop, not a government agent.” He opened the back door and pulled out a gray Segway. 

Bond pinched his lips together. “No,” he said. 

Q smiled at him. “I could have spent my morning fucking Felix. Instead I modified this to a top speed of over thirty miles per hour for you. The words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Q.’” 

“Fuck you, Q.” 

“Nice shirt,” Q said by way of reply.

Bond looked down at his shirt, a hideous white polyester blend with big iron-on patches on the front and back that proclaimed him to be SECURITY. He sighed. “Give Felix a kiss for me. And tell him that the Americans aren’t getting Aerosol Man; we saw him first.” 

Q waved him off. “Believe me,” he said, “Felix and I have other plans.” He got in his enormous American vehicle and rolled away. 

Bond got onto his Segway and rolled onto his first day on the job. 

\---

Aerosol Man was a notorious chemical distributor, and the word from one of Six’s decrypted messages was that he had created a new and highly effective airborne sedative. The formula had gone up for auction, bids had been placed, and the exchange of merchandise and payment was due to happen somewhere in here: the Lynnvale Mall.

Bond patrolled the corridors on his Segway. Shaped like a boomerang, the mall was anchored by five massive hubs: Macy’s, Dillard’s, JC Penney, Dick’s Sporting Goods, and the food court. The rest of the mall’s over a hundred outlets had been jammed together along the main corridor and the branching paths that led to the big five. 

The mall’s exits were carefully located away from the main corridor. American malls, like casinos, tried to keep their customers trapped in a money-spending maze. Unlike a casino, the mall smelled like baked pretzels. Everywhere. Bond could feel the scent permeating into his shirt. He was going to set that pretzel polyester monstrosity on fire as soon as Aerosol Man was in custody. 

At the start of the corridor leading to the Dick’s Sporting Goods, a tennis ball bounced off of Bond’s Segway and back into the hand of a man holding a tennis racket and wearing the standard white tennis outfit along with a Dick’s Sporting Goods lanyard. “Pardon me! But I believe you need a helmet. It just so happens that we carry a fine selection...” He quirked his eyebrows suggestively. 

Tennis Man was tall, dark, and handsome, and Bond needed to case Dick’s anyway. “Lay on, Macduff,” Bond said. 

“I’m Vijay, actually,” the man said as he guided Bond to the helmet aisle. He bounced his tennis ball on his racket as he walked, his control impeccable. 

“James,” Bond said. “Tell me, are you as good at handling other things as you are at handling your racket?” 

“Oh, I’m a handling expert,” Vijay said. “Anything with balls here at Dick’s.” The rhythm of the racket and ball never faltered, not even as Vijay sent him an amused glance and a secret little smirk. 

They reached the helmet aisle and Vijay helped him pick one out. “This blue matches your security patches,” Vijay teased. 

“Then you should have a racket that matches your lanyard,” Bond said, raising his eyebrows. 

Vijay clutched his racket protectively. “Never mind. Pick a color, any color,” he said. 

Bond chose a black one just to be boring. 

“Horrible,” Vijay said, but he rang it up anyway. 

“Is it normal to be able to smell the Auntie Anne’s even when you’re in Dick’s Sporting Goods?” Bond asked on his way out. 

Vijay shrugged. “I think they figured out how to get into the ventilation system. And their lines have been longer than ever, so it seems like it worked.” 

\--- 

Bond rode his Segway through the rest of day, on red alert for any sign of Aerosol Man. Instead he found 1) a teenage Forever 21 shoplifter whose parents had to be called to pick them up, 2) an obviously high couple who wouldn’t stop snogging in the Barnes and Noble, 3) a man who tried to eat the entire tray of free samples from Teriyaki King and had to be escorted off the premises, and 4) an incredible number of entitled customers who had the nerve to act like arseholes after asking him for directions. (Bond gave them directions, all right. Directions for a half-hour trek through the entire mall instead of a brisk two-minute walk to their destination.)

No Aerosol Man. Not on Bond’s visuals. Not on the security cameras monitored by one of Q’s boffins. Not anywhere. 

Q called him at the end of his shift. “Terribly sorry,” he said. “It appears that we’ve misinterpreted part of the code. The drop is scheduled for _next_ Wednesday, not today. I’ve spoken with M, and you’re to maintain your cover for the remaining week. I’ve been told to stay here in the event that you need backup.” 

Bond glowered at his phone. “Did you send me here a week early so that M would let you have extra time with Felix?” 

“...Noooo,” Q said unconvincingly. “I would never do anything so unprofessional. Certainly not as revenge for the Helsinki incident.” 

“Quit chatting up James,” Felix’s low voice came through the phone. “You’re here to chat up _me_.” 

From the slick, wet sounds that followed, kissing was happening. “That doesn’t count as chatting,” Bond told them, and hung up. 

\--- 

Vijay at Dick’s Sporting Goods was the first person Bond went to the next morning. “I find myself needing to return this helmet,” he said. 

“Oh?” Vijay asked. “Something wrong?” 

“I need more color coordination,” Bond said. He slid the blue helmet from yesterday onto the counter. 

Vijay grinned, returned the black helmet, and rang up the blue one. “I have lunch at eleven,” he mentioned. “In case you need someone to double-check your fit.” 

“Oh, I’m well fit,” Bond said, meeting Vijay’s eyes. “But as a security officer, it’s always better to be on the safe side. Meet you here?” 

“I’ll be the guy luring people in with tennis tricks,” Vijay said, smiling. “Hard to miss me.” 

“Easy to miss you,” Bond countered, because he was never one to miss a line. 

Vijay ducked his head and waved him away.

The thought of lunch with a fun and reasonable person was the only thing that kept Bond from breaking cover when the fifth person in a row asked him to help them find their car in the enormous mall parking lot. Was it too much to ask someone to keep track of their own vehicle? 

(Bond always knew exactly which river or toppled building his car was parked under.) 

\--- 

As it turned out, the mall wasn’t a terrible place for a lunch date, except for the food. Bond considered the available options and steered them firmly away from Carrabas’ “Italian” “Grill” and towards a smoothie and boba tea shop, which appeared to be the least objectionable cuisine in the place. (Q could never know.) 

He and Vijay bounced the ball of conversation between them, first over smoothies, and then in the Yankee Candle shop, where they dared each other to try increasingly-likely-to-be-objectionable smells. 

“This one is just called ‘Whiskers on Kittens,’” Bond complained. “What is that even supposed to mean?” He shoved the jar at Vijay. 

Vijay sniffed. “Apparently kitten whiskers smell like vanilla and sandalwood. Here!” He thrust his newest find towards Bond. “White Zinfandel!” he crowed. “You have to smell this.” 

Bond sniffed cautiously, only to wrinkle his nose and rear back in horror. “Christ! If I smelled that, I would throw away the bottle.” 

“I know,” Vijay said, his eyes shining with mirth. “It’s practically weaponizable.” 

Actually, it was. Bond laughed and bought it. He needed to send a fucking-congratulations gift to Q and Felix, after all. 

\---

On Friday, Bond exchanged his helmet for a red one in the morning, and for lunch he and Vijay tried out the Cracker Barrel out of a morbid interest in American food. Vijay had been born in India, he said, and he had moved here recently in order to help one of his brothers. 

“The servings are so big,” Vijay said, looking at the loaded tables around them. 

“You can order dumplings on the side of your dumplings,” Bond said, peering fascinatedly at the menu. 

“Sweet tea,” Vijay said, making a face. 

Their eyes met. “Americans!” they said together, grinning. 

They split a country ham platter on the grounds that surely even Americans couldn’t mess up a ham. It was decent, but Bond still texted Felix that his country’s cuisine was an affront to the God it pretended to worship. 

_Spoiled you with all that good steak we have on our get-togethers_ , Felix texted back. And a moment later: _The Cracker Barrel God loves sweet tea, motherfucker._

\---

On Saturday, they investigated the eleven (Bond counted) jewelry stores the mall had to offer, including Claire’s and something called the Piercing Pagoda. 

On Sunday, they toured the clothing stores and invaded the dressing rooms to put each other into apalling outfits. 

On Monday, they snogged in the back of the Barnes and Noble and Bond pretended to escort himself and Vijay out of the store for being scandalous. After hours, Vijay wore roller blades out of the store and Bond towed him behind his Segway through the empty corridors. 

On Tuesday, Bond realized that this was his last full day with Vijay, and that tomorrow, after he caught Aerosol Man, he would have to quit being a mall cop and forcibly escort Q onto a plane back to the UK. 

“Dave and Buster’s today?” Vijay asked that morning. He had circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept well the night before. 

Bond swapped his pink helmet from Monday for a black one with flame decals. “Sounds fun,” he said, even though it also sounded loud and full of obnoxious lights. But Vijay had made candles fun; surely an arcade would be all right. 

\---

They were evenly matched at skee ball. Bond had the edge in the Mario racing game. Vijay proved to be a master of Pacman. 

Finally, they came to Dance Dance Revolution. 

“I dare you,” Vijay said, twirling his racket. 

Bond shrugged. “If you want me to kick your arse, I will,” he said, meeting Vijay’s eyes smugly. “I’m an exceptional dancer.” 

“But do you have _moves_?” Vijay asked, hip-checking him on his way to the colorful machine. 

They played a couple of warm-up rounds, and then they discovered that there was a cooperative mode. Their eyes locked. Bond smiled. “I think we’ll figure it out,” he said. 

And in a flailing, stomping rhythm, they did.

\--- 

Wednesday saw Bond exchanging his flame-covered helmet for one that said “ultra-protective” on the box. Vijay checked him out with a minimum of flirting and said, “I have a thing at lunch today,” which at least saved Bond the awkwardness of using the same line. 

“Everything all right?” Bond asked. “You seem a little on edge.” 

“Oh, just a...performance review,” Vijay said, grimacing. 

Bond gave an empathetic grimace and went to patrol the corridors. He ignored the shoplifters. He noticed what was probably a weed deal taking place in front of the food court McDonalds and said not a word. He directed all lost-car people to the parking garage, as though they might not have remembered where the enormous parking lot was, and Segwayed away before they could protest. Above all, he kept his eyes peeled for Aerosol Man. 

At ten o’clock on the dot, Bond clocked him in front of the Yankee Candle. Aerosol Man! He had a paper bag in his hand, and he was talking with a South Asian man wearing a hoodie. 

From the opposite end of the mall, Vijay waved a hand and started walking towards him. 

Fuck. 

Bond Segwayed towards his targets, hoping that his terrible SECURITY shirt would make him look less like a secret agent. 

Instead, Aerosol Man took one look at him, shoved his buyer in front of Bond’s wheels, and fled. 

“Shit!” Bond said. 

At the same time, Vijay rugby-tackled the buyer and slammed the butt of his tennis racket into the buyer’s head. Electricity sizzled through the air and the buyer convulsed. 

Of course the two secret agents in the mall had managed to find each other. 

“007,” Q’s voice crackled through his radio, “he may attempt to use his aerosolized sedative in order to escape---what would be the best dispersal point?”

Bond and Vijay looked at each other. “The Auntie Anne’s!” 

Sure enough, Aerosol Man was headed in that direction. If he got his new spray into the system, it would be nap time for everyone in the mall, and it might be a nap that some people wouldn’t wake up from. 

“Get on!” Bond said. 

Vijay holstered his racket behind his back and hopped onto the Segway behind him, holding onto Bond’s shoulders. His body moved seamlessly with Bond’s as they raced the Segway down the main corridor at its full 30 mile per hour speed, slowly but steadily gaining on Aerosol Man. 

Customers leaped out of their path, but a small child looked up at them, frozen and wide-eyed. “Move!” Bond shouted. 

Vijay threw a tennis ball and hit the kid in the face, making him scramble away just in time for the Segway to breeze past him. 

Aerosol Man grew closer. Almost, almost---there! Bond revved the Segway and crashed into his target, feeling Vijay leap free right before impact. He and Aerosol Man went tumbling to the floor. Bond snatched the paper bag and rolled away just as Vijay smacked their target with his tennis tazer. 

“R&AW?” Bond asked. The Indian foreign intelligence agency. 

“MI6?” Vijay asked in return, grinning. “You must have intercepted things from the dealer’s side. We were tracking the buyer.” He tugged a few strings from his racket and bound Aerosol Man’s hands behind his back. For tennis strings, they were curiously good at keeping Aerosol Man contained. 

Ugh. The R&AW agent got a cool tennis gadget and all Bond got was a souped up Segway. He was never going to let Q hear the end of it.

“The only question is,” Bond said, “which agency gets the targets? Unless you want to play for them.” He raised his eyebrows. 

“What, tennis?” Vijay asked, smirking. 

“Poker,” Bond said with the same expression. 

Then, as one, they turned towards Dave and Buster’s. Only one game would be a fair test of their abilities. 

“Q has a government vehicle waiting outside,” Bond said. “We could put the targets in temporary holding. Felix is with him; if we can get them to stop snogging, he’ll make sure Q doesn’t drive away with our acquisitions.” 

Vijay nodded. “Co-op mode?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Bond said, already looking forward to what would happen after the game. No matter what the outcome was, he was confident that any dance--even DDR--would help him segue his mall partner into the bedroom. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome <3


End file.
